


D-16

by LadyTorix



Series: G1 Minimus [2]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: And yet more insomnia, Confessions, Decepticon Minimus, Don't copy to another site, Dreams, Escape, First Meetings, Functionalism (Transformers), How to break a miner out of a mine in 3 easy steps, Insomnia, Love Confessions, M/M, Megatron before he was Megatron, Pining, Pre-Decepticon Minimus, Shades of IDW, Starscream is Starscream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25801042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTorix/pseuds/LadyTorix
Summary: Getting a miner brought to the surface and turned over to anyone, even a politician, wasn’t an easy feat.  So exactly how did Minimus and his brother manage to get Megatron out of the mines?
Relationships: Dominus Ambus & Minimus Ambus, Megatron & Soundwave, Megatron/Minimus Ambus
Series: G1 Minimus [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864432
Comments: 46
Kudos: 55





	1. It All Had to Start Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> A prequel for How Sensibility Won the War. (Which I do recommend reading first.)
> 
> Thank you so much to my friend specspectacle for being my beta reader!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for MiniMegs week 2020 theme, "Hope."

D-16 had been dragged into solitary confinement and just left there for, oh, going on 2 cycles now. No rations (as per normal) but usually someone at least had the decency to let him know _why_ he was being punished.

He’d assumed they’d found another one of his datapads. No matter that it was encrypted and they couldn’t actually see what was on it, just having one was enough to elicit punishment from the higher ups.

Technically it wasn’t contraband. (He actually knew, he’d checked the damn by-laws for the mine.) But it was still treated as such, and they’d say something about it containing _objectionable_ material. (I.e. bots interfacing their thinking modules out.) Regardless of the complete non-presence of such material on the actual device.

The worst part was the lights. They were far too bright for comfort. Sure, he could offline his optics, but due to the light sensors he had been built with… it didn’t do much. Even leaving him in pitch black would have been better. Miners’ optics had to be built to work in low light conditions. Useful when digging underground but borderline agonizing in a bright room.

The light was always there and he hated it.

He turned when the door slid open, careful to only move his head. Moving too quickly was often grounds for the supervisors to react violently in 'self-defense,' and give a bot more than a few good dents. Having been on the receiving end of this more than once, he had no desire to return to work in significantly worse shape than when he’d left.

Undercut entered, a smug little smile on his faceplates. “Well, well, D-16, it’s your _lucky_ day.”

Because, of course, it had to be him. Of course. Undercut was known to be particularly vicious during these little ‘discipline’ sessions.

He stayed silent, let the moron gloat.

“Oh? The silent treatment, is it? Fine, you see, it’s my lucky day too,” that smug little smile on Undercut’s faceplates suddenly turned very nasty, “you’re no longer my problem.”

He returned his gaze to the wall opposite and spoke calmly, “Ah, so I’m being transferred. Again.”

Undercut giggled, “Oh _no,_ I don’t think you understand what I mean. You’re not _anyone’s_ problem anymore. At least not anyone who matters.”

He tensed, but the other mech continued, “ _Apparently,_ you’ve been selected as a guinea pig for some program the politicians are trying out. Seeing if they can teach a dumb as rocks deep miner to function in something than what he was built for. Should be _hilarious._ ”

It took all of his self control, but he didn’t move, didn’t respond, just stared straight ahead.

“And you’ll die in the gutter like the trash you are,” Undercut hissed. When D-16 again didn’t respond he continued, “Once they see that you’re nothing more than a way of moving rocks from one place to another, you uppity piece of sla-”

A voice crackling over the loudspeaker in the room interrupted him, “My apologies, Mr. Undercut, but the senator is asking for an update?”

Undercut was suddenly all smiles and dentae, “Of _course_ , I was only just trying to get our _friend_ here properly prepared for transport. I will arrive shortly.”

Well, well, Undercut may be full of slag, but that mention of a senator meant that _something_ was happening. The question was, _what?_

* * *

He was led into a room he’d never seen before. One closer to the surface, according to his internal sensors.

His world was usually rough walls of rock, rough ceilings of rock, rough floors of rock, and yet here, several hundred miles up, far above his toiling compatriots, was this room. The walls and ceiling were still rock of course, but they had been polished, until they were smooth and shimmered in the light, and the floor was covered in some sort of soft substance.

It felt like a completely different world.

A facade to the death below.

The room was mostly empty aside from a mech behind a desk, and two white mechs that had probably never seen a hard day’s labor in their entire functioning.

He swore he could taste oil oozing from Undercut as he strode ahead of him towards the taller of the two mechs, “Ah, senator! Thank you so much for your patience. I trust all the paperwork and such has been squared away to your satisfaction?”

“Yes, of course!” the senator stepped forward, “And your cooperation in this matter is truly appreciated.” He pulled out a bottle of high grade energon from subspace. “I thought perhaps we could share a toast for your sublime assistance?”

“Oh? Indeed, but…,” he gestured to D-16.

The senator flashed a brilliant smile and put his arm around Undercut’s shoulder, “Oh, my assistant will take care of that matter, now which way to your office?”

D-16 and the smaller white and green mech watched the two of them disappear down a hallway. Once their voices faded away, the smaller mech turned to him and looked him over before turning to the mech at the desk.

“Is there a reason for his restraints?”

“It’s standard protocol,” the bot responded brightly, “when transferring miners to other facilities they have restraints placed around their wrists like so.”

“Then I will require the key.”

“Oh,” the bot’s smile faltered, “it’s set to disengage after a set amount of time. I could call Undercut back if you would like? He should have the authority to do so manually.”

The mech frowned, “No, that will be quite alright, thank you.” Turning back to him, he nodded, “Follow me, please.”

D-16 followed him onto an elevator. It, too, was far more elegant than any he’d used in his life.

It would be a long way up, even from this depth.

“Where are we going?”

“Please do not speak until spoken to,” the mech replied primly, his arms folded behind him as he stared straight ahead.

The response didn’t surprise him, but the message certainly did.

_::I apologize for the harshness of my reply. The elevator is likely bugged. We will be able to speak freely once we are onboard the senator’s ship.::_

D-16 kept his expression neutral and focused in front of himself and not at the mech beside him.

_::Understood.::_

Miners weren’t onlined knowing how to read common Cybertronian, either this mech didn’t realize this, or it meant this mech knew _he_ could read.

_Interesting._

* * *

The senator’s ship proved to be considerably smaller than miner transport ships he was used to, and as it was not meant for someone of his size, he had to duck once he was on board.

His companion gestured towards a seat, “Please sit, and I should be able to remove your restraints.”

D-16 did so, and held out his servos. The smaller mech took hold and yanked the restraints cleanly in two. D-16 stared. “How…?”

“I am considerably stronger than I appear,” the mech replied, and took a seat opposite of him. “The sections around your wrists should disengage themselves in their normal duration, but at least your movement will no longer be restricted.”

“Yes, but why would you concern yourself over my comfort? The mech from before wasn’t lying, we are always restrained during transport.”

He looked confused, “For goodness’ sake, why?”

“Supposedly it’s for the safety of the other staff.”

His expression tightened, “That is absurd, you are not our prisoner, and I will not treat you as one.”

“Then what the frag am I? Undercut fed me some line about a program run by politicians, but that seems like a load of slag to me.”

“Oh, no, he was correct, or at least he was correct in so much as the reasons we gave.” He took a deep invent, “Please, allow me to start from the beginning. The senator from before was Dominus Ambus, I am his brother, Minimus Ambus.”

“I know of him.”

“Yes, you wrote him.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You wrote him passing on information about Messatine. Bribes, mistreatment, and the like.”

“How… do you know about that?” D16 said slowly, his optics narrowing. He’d covered his tracks well, that much he knew. Not to mention such correspondence wasn’t likely to be tracked down to a simple miner to begin with. It was far more likely to be blamed on a mech higher up, like a supervisor.

“We were able to investigate and ascertain out the origin of the message, after considerable effort. By the time we narrowed it down you were already gone, and we had to figure out where you had been transferred too.”

“And the two times after that, I imagine.”

Minimus nodded, “Correct. We realized we were on the right track once when more than one supervisor complained about having to deal with a miner that could read common Cybertronian.”

“They don’t like it when someone can read their insults and repeat them to everyone else. But why this charade? Why all this effort? I can’t be the only minor who’s managed to educate themselves.”

“We attempted to report the issues at Messatine to the proper authorities, but our report was thrown out almost immediately,” he cleared his intake, “for reasons we were not told, though considering the amount of corruption you have implied on Messatine, it does not take a massive leap that such corruption goes up far higher than just that particular establishment.

D-16 nodded as Minimus continued, “We tried several more times, but none of our attempts were successful. My brother now believes if we are going to be able to root out such corruption within the existing mining structure, we need help. We need someone with more of an understanding of how these mines operate, and what is happening inside. Someone with personal experience.”

“You mean me.”

“Exactly.”

He snorted, “Why a miner then? Surely you realize if you bribe high enough even a supervisor will crack eventually.”

“Because, if I may be so frank, if we want to change this we need someone who actually gives a frag. Not someone trying to exonerate their own actions and force the blame on others.”

D-16 began to laugh, “Primus, you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I am always serious.”

“You, you and your brother- two high born mechs give a flying frag about what’s happening to a bunch of poor sods stuck in the dark? Why the pit should I believe you? Better yet, what are you getting out of it?”

Minimus sat up a little straighter and replied calmly, “I believe you wrote my brother for a reason, even if it was only because of his reputation for championing causes such as this. If you did not think he was capable of pushing for miners’ rights, then why write him in the first place?”

“I didn’t expect a response! Do you know how many times I’ve tried to write other senators? Tried to write anyone that might listen? Most mechs either don’t know deep miners exist or would rather forget that we did. They’d rather forget about the mechs that are dying under their feet so they can keep on living their guilt free little lives.”

“You have offered compelling evidence for wrongdoings being done to an entire profession of mechs daily, even by the cycle, and no one is doing anything about it. What kind of mech would I be if I turned away from the truth?”

“A fairly common one, I’d say.”

“I believed what you sent us.”

“You mean what I sent to your brother?”

“Yes,” Minimus cleared in intake, “but... I am responsible for reading official correspondence and the like, so it arrived on my desk first.”

“Fine, let’s say I agree, do you really think anything will change?”

“We will not know until we try. If we do not try then it is a certainty that nothing will change.”

D-16 stared at him, of course the mech could be lying… But if what he was saying was true... then this was an opportunity that he never could have imagined. Deep miners didn’t make it out of mines. They worked, they died, and about all that was left behind was a tidy sum on some mining company’s ledger.

But… what if he could change that? Not just for everything he had endured, but for everyone still trapped underground.

“Very well. Then, let us try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I accidentally come up with a logical reason for why Decepticon HQ's are always so dark?
> 
> Anyway, the remaining parts will be posted over the next week. They're a bit more drabbly then this chapter, but I hope you'll still enjoy them :)


	2. Sleepless on Cybertron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, he wakes up and thinks he's still in the mines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for MiniMegs week 2020 using the theme, "Vulnerability."

He couldn’t sleep. Again. Slag.

There were times he wished for the darkness of the mines again, because if it wasn’t the lack of another spark nearby making him wake up in a panic, it was the damn lights.

Underground you were surrounded by other mechs at all times, eating, working, recharging.

The only time he hadn’t been around other mechs was when he was thrown into solitary. Some nights he woke up still thinking he was that too bright room again. That this had all been the insane dream of a starving mech locked up for too long.

And he had been starving. Minimus had recently calculated, based on his explanation of rations, that he had only been receiving half the recommended amount of energy for a mech of his build and size, even less if he was being disciplined.

D-16 hadn’t mentioned as much, but secretly he was relieved when what had been intended as temporary lodgings became a more permanent arrangement. Minimus had tried, with no avail, to procure a living space for him, but no one would rent to a labor mech. At least here he could hear someone else moving around when Minimus was awake. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if he had been rooming alone. However poorly he was recharging now, he knew it could be that much worse.

Initially, the two of them had a lengthy conversation when it became apparent that short of being placed a significant distance from Dominus’ office, renting a room was impossible for him. Minimus hadn’t been happy, which D-16 had assumed was due to not wanting a strange mech living with him, but had far more to do with Minimus questioning the ethics behind such an arrangement.

“I do not like placing you in a position where your housing is dependent upon someone who is in a supervisory role to yourself.”

“Your objections are understandable, Minimus, but it _is_ an arrangement I am amenable to.”

Minimus sighed, “It reminds me far too much of your description of the mines. The company fed you, housed you, took care of repairs, they took care of everything and then charged you all for it!”

“What would you do to make sure such abuses of power were not done in this situation then?”

“Hmm,” Minimus stroked his facial insignia, “I would write up a contract beforehand, outlining the expectations, for both parties involved, including such instances in which the contract could be broken.”

“And would one of those conditions be that I am currently employed by your brother’s office?”

He shook his head sharply, “Of course not.”

“Then what would be your conditions for me staying here for the time being?”

“Being respectful of the shared common areas, being mindful of each other’s privacy, and the like. Further discussion would be needed on say, inviting guests, making changes to the common areas, etc.”

D-16 waved him off, “Then I’m not worried. I do, however, insist that I pay rent if I make this my permanent residence.”

Minimus ex-vented heavily and massaged his temples with his servos, “I do not like the idea of getting part of your paycheck either. Especially, as I am the one in charge of payroll for Dominus’ office.”

“So? Use it to pay for utilities and energon. As has become apparent, I need a considerably larger supply of fuel than what you need for just yourself. If anything remains put it in a separate account and we can use it to make any needed improvements to the space.”

“That… is a good suggestion,” Minimus folded his servos on the table in front of them, “much as I still do not like the idea of it. Very well,” he sat up taller and met the other mech’s gaze, “16, I would like to offer the rental of the berthroom that you are currently inhabiting, as well as shared access to the other parts of my residence.”

“And I would be happy to accept.”

“I will draw up a contract by tomorrow morning and we can discuss further adjustments afterwards. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes.”

And Minimus had (because he was Minimus) had the contract ready the very next morning. They spent the afternoon discussing the logistics of sharing a space, and what things were and were not allowed. Not that D-16 really had any expectations going into such discussions. Yes, his own berth room was small, but it certainly wasn’t any smaller than the miners’ quarters, and those often had to be shared by two mechs or more.

It had been what he had considered a pleasant experience, all in all. Minimus explained everything (always). He supposed many mecha would think Minimus was too detail oriented, but D-16 found it comforting. It meant he always knew what to expect, and what was expected of him in return.

A lifetime of dealing with petty mining supervisors had meant that was almost never the case before coming to Iacon.

He liked it here. He liked Minimus. He enjoyed spending time with him. He enjoyed their discussions. The way Minimus lit up when asked for more details. The easy understanding between the two of them.

He wished...

-NO.

He finally sat up, he wasn’t going down that train of thought.

It was clear he wasn’t going to be able to fall back into recharge anytime soon. According to his chronometer it would only be a few cycles before Minimus would be up and they would head over to the senate’s offices, he might as well attempt to get some work done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *walks on stage, and leans into the mic*  
> THEY WERE ROOMMATES.


	3. Something Essential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minimus doesn't get angry often, but when he does, it's for a very good reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for MiniMegs week 2020 using the theme, "Loyalty."

Minimus was shaking, which in a lesser mech would indicate fear, but D-16 knew it was in actuality, in this very moment, pure _rage._

The building owner began slowly backing away. “Surely, you understand! If we’re known to house labor class mechs my property values go down and-”

“AND, THEN WHAT!?” Minimus jabbed a finger at the taller mech’s breastplate, “Perhaps, mechs might have to consider that working class mechs are not altogether different from themselves!?”

“Er..”

“You do not have a pede to stand on with this asinine request, and you know it! And,” Minimus huffed, “I suggest you get a very good legal representative if you feel the need to continue with this little bout of Functionalism because so help me Primus, I will _eviscerate_ you in court.”

D-16 walked over and put a servo on Minimus’ shoulder.

Minimus stiffened, and stood up straight, continuing to glare at the property owner, “Now, if that is all. The answer is, no, I will not be throwing my friend out, as we have not broken any of the terms and conditions in the lease. In addition, you were perfectly fine with another tenant moving into this unit when I sent over the paperwork prior. _Which I suggest you go back and review._ ”

“Er, I’ll, uh, show myself out then.” The mech looked so shellshocked by his usually mild mannered tenant’s outburst that D-16 almost felt sorry for him. _Almost._ (He had been trying to convince Minimus to force him out onto the street a few minutes ago after all.)

He left, and Minimus locked the door behind him.

“Minimus, I can’t let you get kicked out of your own habsuite because of me.”

“What they’re doing is _illegal_ , 16.”

“Since when has that mattered? Most of what I’ve dealt with, both in Iacon and in the mines was technically illegal, but it still happens.”

“I do not care, I will not let it happen _here,_ ” Minimus stomped his pede for emphasis, “in my own damn home!”

“Minimus,” D-16 spoke calmly, “I will not stay here if it puts you in danger of losing your home, or inconveniences you in such a way.”

“Why the pit not?” Minimus responded hotly, “This is not your fault! It is slagging idiots like that!” he gestured angrily towards the door.

“Regardless, my presence is affecting your living conditions in a negative way.”

“No! You are not!” He took a deep vent and reset his optics, “Look, I apologize for losing my temper, but please do not make a decision like this based only on the reactions of Functionalist fools.”

“I can’t stay, Minimus.”

“16…,” Minimus rubbed his temples, “please, help me understand. I know you know this is wrong- it is the very basis of so many of our own discussions with the flaws of Functionalist ideology for Primus’ sake. So why? Why not fight it?”

“I…” he trailed off.

“16, please. He does not have any legal ground here, I know if we were to take this to court I would easily be able to refute him.”

“No, I can’t do that to you.”

“Why?”

He winced, “I just… can’t.”

He turned away and stared at the wall, and silence stretched out between them.

Minimus cleared his intake, “Am I... correct in assuming that you want to leave in an effort to not inconvenience me?”

It was close enough to his reasoning, “Yes.”

Minimus walked up beside him and gently placed his servo on one of D-16’s forearms, “I admit that, very selfishly… I want you here.”

D-16 looked at him in surprise, “You… you do? Why?”

“A life without your companionship would be missing something essential. And I do not wish to lose it.”

They stared at each other. D-16 lifted a servo and placed it over Minimus’, when the mech did not shy away from his touch he cleared his intake, “I feel much the same.”

* * *

Minimus sounded the syllables out and frowned. “Damn.”

He laughed, “You didn’t do _that_ badly, Minimus.”

“Hmph, perhaps, but I feel as though I must make up for calling you D-16 for so long,” Minimus propped himself up with his elbows on D-16's chestplate.

“You have nothing to apologize for. It never occurred to me that you might be bothered by my lack of a traditional name.”

“I assumed it was a habit of the mining companies to give their mechs simplified designations, to further dissuade the idea of the miners being individuals. I felt it would be in poor taste to bring it up.”

“If you were anyone else, I would probably agree.”

Minimus tried once more, _“Megatronus.”_

“Much less garbled that time,” he leaned forward and kissed the minibot on the forehead. “Good job.”

“I will keep at it until I get it right,” Minimus said seriously.

“I know.”

“Will you teach me more miner's dialect? I clearly do not possess your gift for language, but I want to learn, if you are willing.”

“I would be happy to, later. For now though,” he rolled over so he was on his side and Minimus was lying next to him, “I look forward to recharging next to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what? I like angry Minimus. Angry Minimus is gonna kick someone's ass with the LAW.


	4. Ghost Melodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron thought that no record of Minimus Ambus existed. He was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied. This is the last thing I wrote for MiniMegs week. I realized this morning that I wanted something in between chapter 3 and 4 so here we are. I've done my best to proofread, but obviously this particular chapter hasn't been beted.

Megatron growled at Starscream to get out of his office for the fourth time before the damn mech got it through his head that Megatron wasn’t going to listen to the slagger whine about his paint job getting ruined in a fight AGAIN.

Megatron’s spark had been aching for months, and for some reason today it felt even worse than normal. Not enough that he was worried, but enough that it made every little annoyance  _ even _ more annoying. (And what was he going to do about it anyway, go to the Constructicons and pop open his chest plates just so Starscream could harass him about it for the next vorn? Definitely not.)

So when someone pinged for admittance to his office a few minutes later he had to crush the urge to greet whoever it was with a fusion cannon blast to the faceplates.

“What is it?” Megatron snapped as Soundwave walked in.

Soundwave sat down a datapad on his desk, “Damage Reports: Today’s battle.”

He snorted and picked it up to glance over it, “Did you add Starscream’s precious, precious, aft for the  _ terrible _ paint scrapes he has endured?”

“Starscream: No damage sustained.” Soundwave’s voice may not have sounded any different, but Megatron knew annoyed when he heard it.

“Glad we’re in agreement. Now, was there anything else, Soundwave?”

Soundwave paused before pulling a small dataslug out of subspace and placing it gingerly on Megatron’s desk, “A gift.”

Megatron picked it up and stared at it, “A gift?”

“Gift,” Soundwave confirmed.

“Of what?”

“Video footage. Backups are available. Can be deleted if desired.”

“Footage of  _ what,  _ Soundwave?” Megatron growled. It was truly a testament to his mood that even Soundwave was on his last nerve today.

“Megatron: Watch.”

“Fine,” he gestured to the door, “you’re dismissed.”

Soundwave nodded and exited the office.

Megatron stared at the tiny dataslug for a moment before plugging it into a port on his console and accessing the data. It contained only a single vid, and an audio file.

Soundwave had long made a hobby of editing footage from Megatron’s speeches or his gladitoral days. Megatron assumed this was another such example, but Soundwave hadn’t made vid edits in vorns. Perhaps he was merely bored on this backwater planet?

Regardless, it would likely provide some entertainment, and at Megatron’s current level of irritation he could use it. He decided to play the vid first.

The audio was old, and poor. Probably taken with less than substandard equipment. He could hear the audio pop and hiss as objects were being moved around on a blurry image. The video finally focused on a table covered with various tools.

“Ha!” the camera was picked up and turned onto… a younger version of himself?

His younger self smirked, “I knew it was the power supply.”

With a growl Megatron went to remove the dataslug, but his servo stopped right above it. Instead he let his servo drop and sent a lock command to his office door.

In the video, the video recorder was picked up and carried out of the room, down the hallway to…  _ their _ office.

At a doorway, his younger self had paused. Inside a small white and green mech was sorting through a large stack of paperwork, singing softly to himself.

Minimus.

There had been many occasions similar to this, Minimus singing old mining songs Megatron had taught him, but Megatron remembered this exact moment. He remembered standing at the doorway for nearly an hour just listening to his conjunx’s voice.

But in the present, Megatron sat at his desk, his eyes transfixed on the screen. It was really Minimus. He thought there weren’t any records of Minimus anywhere… how did this even exist?

He sat and watched the whole thing, listening to the Minimus in the video run through nearly a dozen songs, until he had finished his paperwork and turned around, catching sight of Megatron’s younger self.

_ “Megatronus! _ How- how long were you standing there?”

“What? I’m not allowed to admire my conjunx’s lovely voice?”

Minimus flushed and muttered something about at least letting him  _ know _ he had an audience next time, but there was no real anger in it. He looked up and seemed to realize Megatron was holding something.

“What is that?”

“A video recorder.”

Minimus flushed even darker, but Megatron quickly injected, “Don’t worry, I’ll delete this footage, I just needed to make sure it was working.”

Minimus let out a relieved little huff, “Where did it come from?”

“Soundwave.”

“He is...” Minimus paused, “he is senator Decimus’ assistant is he not?”

“Yes, and one of the only other Decepticons in that damn building.”

Minimus nodded, “He is a very polite mech. And he always does his paperwork.”

“Yes, well, apparently he’s expected to provide video footage to Decimus on days when the fragger doesn’t feel like coming into his office. At his own expense,” the camera moved up and down as Megatron gestured with it.

Minimus frowned, “I know for a fact that Decimus should have enough of a budget to get his  _ one _ assistant a vid recorder.”

“He’s probably taking it for himself.”

“Probably,” Minimus looked thoughtful for a moment, “Next time, if this repair does not hold, or if he needs to purchase one again, let me know. I am sure there is a budget I can pull from that will cover the expense.”

“I’ll tell him.”

The footage cut as his past self flipped the camera and stopped the recording. Megatron was left staring at the blank screen. He carefully copied both files into an encrypted section of his console’s hard drive before sending Soundwave a message.

_ ::How did you get this?:: _

_ ::Found deleted file data. Copied data. Reconstructed. Badly damaged. Realized subject was Minimus Ambus. Repaired.:: _

_ ::But you would have had to carry this around for centuries even before we crashed on Earth, so why?:: _

_ ::Minimus Ambus purged from Autobot records after taking conjunx. Undeserving of fate. Sought to keep record.:: _

Another message came quickly after.

_ ::Have more records, from senate floor and staff meetings.:: _

_ ::You have my permission to continue reconstructing whatever footage you have. I expect copies.:: _

_ ::Understood.:: _

With no more messages forthcoming, Megatron opened the audio file.

It was Minimus singing. Crystal clear, and free of the distortion that plagued the vid recording. Soundwave had clearly expended significant effort in the file’s restoration.

Megatron sat back in his chair and just let it play.

It may not have helped his spark ache less, but it made him feel… comforted that some part, however small, of Minimus had survived.

He offlined his optics and fell into recharge, listening to the melody of a ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry Megs isn't sick, this is happening simultaneously with Minimus being held in the Autobot base and he's getting stuff over their sparkbond and doesn't realize it. Meanwhile, Soundwave has noticed he's been irritable as hell and is legitimately trying to help.


	5. I Dreamed of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping next to someone with a hair trigger can be problematic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless my Beta reader if she ever reads this, she read the shorter original version, so all included mistakes are most assuredly mine. Because some FOOL felt the need to add to this right before they posted it. (Hi, that fool is me.)
> 
> Written for my free space during MiniMegs week.

He dreamed about Minimus singing again.

No, dream wasn't the right word… it was a memory.

In the dark of their old berth room, he’d knelt before Minimus and removed his helmet.

Exposing himself in his most vulnerable state had been the only thing he could think to do as his Act of Disclosure. Even at that point, Minimus already knew far more about his life than any other mech did (or ever would.)

Minimus may not have entirely understood the significance in the moment, but he understood it was important. And he understood that it was the same as Megatron asking to perform the ritus with him.

He'd reached out his hand but paused, looking to Megatron for confirmation. Megatron nodded and offlined his optics as he bent his head forward.

Minimus started singing, quietly, as he pulled Megatron into an embrace and gently touched his crest with the ends of his digits.

* * *

Megaron woke up when he felt movement in his berth. His battle protocols coming online even before his optics did. He swung his arm up as he was charging a shot from his cannon but his arm was caught and stilled before it arrived at the expected destination.

Minimus stared down at him, “ _Megatronus,_ it is only me.”

Once he'd powered down his cannon Minimus let go of his arm, “Are you alright?”

He didn’t reply, instead only cupping the smaller mech’s cheek with a servo.

 _“Megatronus,”_ Minimus repeated patiently.

“Even now, I’m more than half convinced I dreamed you up.”

“I have been absent far longer from your perspective than you have from mine. The uncertainty is understandable.”

“I can’t tell you how many times I saw you when I was half in recharge. How many times I swore I could see you sitting at the end of the berth. How many times I dreamed of our time on Cybertron together.” Megatron sighed, “So little time together, a small bright spot in a long life of struggle.”

“Perhaps, it no longer needs to be merely a small bright spot.”

“Perhaps.”

Minimus turned and kissed his wrist before hopping down and retrieving a datapad from the nearby table.

“Is that the roster?”

“Yes,” Minimus said, hoisting himself up and laying back down in the crook of his arm. “If you truly intend me to be your second-in-command, then I should familiarize myself with the mechs in our army.”

“Yes, but why now?”

“You have been asleep for nearly an entire Earth day. In truth, I have found it difficult to recharge for more than a few hours at a time since being brought to this planet. However, I have no desire to leave your side, and this way I can keep you company while you sleep.”

He nodded and curled around Minimus, but before he could fully offline his optics-

“I would request that you remove the cannon. I know you do not truly wish to harm me, but it is still alarming to have a weapon aimed at my person by my conjunx.”

“And,” he interrupted before Megatron could respond, “Soundwave has Ravage and Laserbeak monitoring the hall. I think it is unlikely that someone will get past them without us being alerted.”

Megatron sighed, “Noted.” He laid the cannon next to berth and curled around Minimus once more.

“Good night, dear.”

“Minimus?”

"Yes?"

"Sing for me, will you?"

Minimus' cheeks flushed, "If that is what you want."

"It is."

"Very well."

And for the first time in centuries, Megatron fell into a deep, contented recharge.

* * *

Eventually, when Megatron woke up, Minimus had an entire outline as to why they should end the war, with no less than 50 citations.

He was also in the middle of drafting a 200 point plan on how to do so.

Megatron had never been so turned on in his life.

It was unfortunate that Starscream chose that moment to burst into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m just saying, I think it would be hilarious if Megatron’s actual weakness is perfectly prepared paperwork in every continuity.
> 
> And that's a wrap on MiniMegs week 2020! I hope it brightened your week!

**Author's Note:**

> You can usually find me (often literally) screaming about robots on Tumblr at [twilight-owl](http://twilight-owl.tumblr.com/) or [afterspark-podcast](https://afterspark-podcast.tumblr.com/).


End file.
